Let me desecrate you
by Margo Alaska
Summary: Ariel's fiancé, Eric, is having a masquerade ball for his birthday. But his little mermaid is beyond sick of the cage of duty he's trapped her in. Until a dark man promises her a night of delicious oblivion. M rated for lots of smut. A Hook/Ariel one-shot.


A/N: I think the title is pretty forward, so you can see where this is going: smut smut smut. This is set pre-Milah, so Killian has both hands and he's just a cunning pirate. This one-shot goes to Kristina, who made the gifset that inspired this. Shutout to my wonderful betas, Devy and Betsy.

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**Let me desecrate you**

When she was younger, one night her sisters took her to see the stars reflected on the bay. It was a shimmering painting on the ocean floor as the sky reflected inwards and the lights got deformed by the water. But it was the most beautiful scenery Ariel had known in her short life. She was sure the fairies had accidently spilled their dust on the water and the particles had dispersed across the sea to reach her and tease her with the lights, the strange lights away from her home. The lights that pulled her closer to the surface, to the land of men. The lights that didn't burn, only in her heart.

Tonight, the lights are gathering around her head like a crown, though she's still not royalty. It's Eric birthday and the ball has taken the castle into frenzy for days. She has been fitted, tortured, prepped and instructed for hours and hours of endless chatter about social rules and common courtesies and how to eat the soup with the bigger spoon, but the cold entrée with the smaller spoon that's next to the small spoon for the dessert. Not the smallest spoon for the coffee. She's slowly losing her mind with spoons!

The bakery has worked nonstop and the sweets are swirling around the room like the bubbles in her champagne glass. The sparkling drink has kept entertained all night long. The countesses and princesses and kings invited are like the sweets, some fat and plump and sugary false. Some are tart and acid and not at all her taste. Some are light and sweet, and she stays at their side for a few minutes until she's taken away. She's the painting everyone wants to stare at tonight, the dutifully fiancé. She herself looks like a confectionary cake. Her dress is the colors of primroses and pink hydrangeas, a fluffy mass of swirling fabric and puffy sleeves, it's tied so tight on her back she can't breathe all night. It reminds when she came out of the water with human legs, the first seconds outside the water, the excruciating pain of air not reaching her, the swirls of colors as she felt herself fainting. Tonight is just like that, choking and dizzying.

If she could find flaws in Eric, she would. But as she stares at him across the ballroom, his pristine white coat with golden bottoms that reflect the chandeliers, the blue pants that highlight his clear, honest eyes, and the ebony hair sweep from his forehead, his teeth shining as he laughs, she sighs. He's a prince alright. Polite, gracious, chivalrous, tender as he brushed his lips over her hand when the meet at the top of the stairs and the world looked at them, consuming their every detail, the handsome couple, the miraculous union of a daughter of the sea and the beloved prince.

But she's no princess. Not if it means restrain like this.

She escaped a world of restrictions, of fear of the unknown, of the maddening curiosity of the tales of men and adventure. She escaped the rules of her own court, the smiles laced with claws and betrayal, the jealousy and whispers, the demands of being the king's daughter. And now she has to be the future king's wife. And his is a cage made of diamonds and courtesies.

Eric's wearing a pearly mask with sapphires and he smiles at her as he dances with a striking blonde woman. His grin is meant to convey reassurance and devotion and Ariel's returning grin tastes ashen in her lips. She's feels like a false princess. She shields her eyes as the red, wired mask protects her true feelings. The elegant, intricate pattern of copper wires and rubies frames her green eyes and she feels like one of the decadent statues Eric has shown her in his books. She feels whimsical like the night, she's eternal, she can hide under this mask and no one can reach into her eyes and see her heart full of forbidden desires. Desires of winds and seas and adventures beyond this castle's walls. Desires beyond her faultless fiancé who feels like white noise covering her future.

She hides the guilt eating her heart as she stands behind a column, and she avoids the gentle touches of her supposed one true love's eyes. She's standing in front of a painted window pane that reaches high into the ceiling of painted cherubs. The glass shows her a petite girl decorated with red and pink hues, but eyes the color of wet leaves in the forest. Eyes like green fire. Eyes full of lies. She just wants a night of recklessness oblivion before she goes back to being the future princess of Eric. She doesn't deserve him.

"Did anyone tell you red hair meant a kiss of fire?" a velvety voice drops in her ear, and the tendrils that curl around her ear shiver with the breath of the man behind her. She looks up and sees his reflection on the window and her breath leaves her in rush. A stranger is dangerously close to her with his head bowed down to her ear, this bold and handsome man with his lips a mouthful of air away from her ear, her neck even. He smiles sinfully, a smirk full of naughtiness, and his eyes are aquamarine blue. Though he hides himself in black clothes and leather, as she can smell him behind her and the warmth of his chest underneath that leather coat, his eyes flash blue like a beacon of light on the window pane surrounded by his black mask. The faces of the ballroom are a blur of colors and politeness, but this man is a nebula, a passing memory. She can't remember meeting him before, but she remembers seeing him across the room, next to the balcony, a shadow among so many men dressed in white and cream. A ghost, dark and smiling like he knew the secrets in her heart. She remembers Eric's mother turning her away towards other princesses and the man's fleeting smile disappeared from her mind.

Until now, that she's staring at it on the window pane.

She turns around and he steps forward, clearing away the space between them. She barely reaches his collarbone and his breath ruffles her hair. She can detect a hint of mint and sea salt in him. Her eyes travel over his neck, over his scruffy chin and onto his mouth. His grin is wicked as his words.

"Can you use your tongue? Or should I?" he teases at her silence. Blood pools in her cheeks and she finally stares at his eyes. She shouldn't have, because she blazes immediately when his eyes pull her closer.

"Excuse me. I don't think we've met before." she prompts, but her voice wavers and she wets her lips. His eyes hunt down the movement and she hides her tongue. His voice is scorching when he answers her.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asks instead. Her nod is almost imperceptible. Her curiosity will be the death of her.

His hands on her waist, he spins her around, the world melting away, and she's left staring into the window again. His arm pulls her against him, tightly, a cage of flesh.

"I shouldn't be here." he confesses and his grin is unapologetic, as his eyes roaming over the tops of her chest, knowing she can see him in the window.

"You weren't invited," she accuses, but closes her eyes, losing coherent thought when she thinks she feels the ghost caress of his fingers on the underside of her breast.

"No I wasn't. Should I leave you, then?" he asks and his fingers move away from her breast and she trembles.

"Oh no… I.. I…" she stammers, trying to come up with a decent excuse for him to stay with her. On her.

His tongue comes closer to her earlobe, gracing her as he whispers, like an illicit request.

"Who are you, lass?"

That questions feels like cold water in her veins. She's Eric's and she's letting a stranger hold her in a dark room, away from the ball.

"I'm engaged to..." she says indignantly, but his chuckles stop her. His hands grow bolder and she's sure her imagination played her a trick. He wouldn't dare to brush her breast so boldly, directly over her nipple. The window is turning foggy with their combined breaths. This isn't happening.

"No darling. Your name," he commands and other hand dips on her waist and stays unmoving on her lower abdomen. The weight of it is enough to forget her own name.

"I'm… I'm Ariel."

"Ariel," he repeats, fucking her name, pronouncing it like a litany of lust and promises in the middle of the night, testing it on his tongue, rolling it around, like a would-be kiss.

"Ariel, are you the kind of girl who let's a stranger steal a kiss from her?" he teases but before she can answer she's turned and shoved against the window, his thigh urgent against her legs and his hands are on her face, tilting her mouth upwards.

The friction of his lips just barely there but not actually pressing on her makes her squirm. His scruffy beard scratches her chin and she just barley stops herself form rubbing against his chin and lips. She's not the kind of girl who kisses strangers. But she wants to be.

But he doesn't give it to her. When she feels his tongue on her earlobe, her eyes roll back in pleasure. He nips and laps at her delicate ear, tonguing her and she can hear his breaths and puffs and groans into the recesses of her mind. He's burying himself into her.

"I never said you could," she breathes out, but her words come out whiny, like a moan.

"I'll take what I want, when I want, how I want it." he shots back and she arches into him, the force of his words slamming against her.

"No you won't." she dares him, silently begging him to. Her eyes are dilated and wide, like the moon outside.

"Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't have said that." he says and she feels his hand raking over her body, coming to rest on her back. He bites her lower lip hard and she gasps, finally. The gasp covers the tearing of fabric, and suddenly her cleavage is loosening and expert fingers bury into the valley of her breast, inside the fabric, passing over her nipple, teasing it into hardness.

"Should I take you here? Fuck you against the window, until the breath of your moans fog the glass for the entire world to see?" he whispers and sucks on her pulse and starts ripping the dress again.

The delirious wanting has her breathless and shaky and for a second she envisions him pumping on her, right here. She imagines the wet slapping of their bodies against the window and the reflection of his face grunting as he fucks her. The desire flows in her veins like molten wax, slow, burning, deliciously painful. But she gathers her wits and steps away from him.

She grins teasingly and runs before he can grab her again. His laughter follows her. She runs through the castle, the buzzing of the party a faint sound, an easy thing to forget. All she hears is her heart pounding with every step as she hurries to her room, his laughter echoing, behind her.

She reaches her room and twirls around just in time to see him coming over her, like a storm, all in black, even his eyes are almost black, the darkest shade of blue she's seen, drinking her like he's a sailor lost in the sea and she's the first sip of fresh water he's had in days.

"Take off you dress," he orders and her eyes widen. He won't undress her himself?

"I want to see you stripped down to the bone," he demands and his eyes are burning the clothes off her. His voice leaves no place for arguments, and she wants him, so badly.

She starts peeling off layer and layer of cloth. The night's air is cool and her skin breaks into goose bumps. Is she actually doing this? Undressing in front of this perfect stranger? With his eyes locked on hers, she carries on. When she stands there, ivory skin shining with the glow of the candles, he steps forward and his hand brushes her side, softly, like a whisper.

"Fuck me," he whispers, his voice strained and hoarse, eyes eating her up. He pushes her back onto the bed and crawls over her, like panther about to strike.

"Tell me your name," she begs him, her voice needy by want and liquor. He just smirks and takes her nipple with his teeth and pulls

"I wanna feel you from the inside," he utters over her nipple and his teeth pull harder, making her gasps. A second later she feels his tongue soothing the sting.

Her chest heaves as he drags his lips downwards until they reach her lower abdomen. Her breaths are coming out sharp and fast, desperate, impatient and she feels his tongue, hot and wet, licking her skin like she's honey and he can't enough. His tongue dips into her navel as his fingers bury into her, grazing her clit, pushing on it, before pumping into her channel, fast and ripping, like a tide. He catches her belly button with this teeth and nips, sucking after, easing the bite, while his fingers curve into her, pressing into her clit and circling it maddeningly slow a second later. She wants his tongue doing the same.

He rolls off her and lies on his back, the bulge in his pants taking all her attention.

"Ride me, Ariel" he commands and her thighs quiver with longing as she straddles his lap.

"Do you let him fuck you like this?" he asks, but his eyes are crueler, mocking. She gaps as his erection rubs on her clit, but it's not enough.

"He won't, he's not… Ohhh, not like this," she's forming incoherent words as he drugs her with erection tracing on her soaking flesh. "He's too tender, too gentle."

His eyes flash dangerously and he grabs her ass and pushes her harder on his body, connecting her harder to his groin.

"Killian," he concedes finally, and she smiles up at him. His lips turn into a crooked grin.

He rubs himself against her, first slowly, just a teasing pressure to let her know the pleasure is almost there. Then both hands grasp her cheeks and he starts pushing himself against her, the leather pants a delicious barrier of friction against their swollen flesh. She sees a wet spot on the front of his pants and she can't tell if it's his cum or her juices. Her moans reach a higher pitch at that thought.

He turns her around and gets up and she actually cries out in pain, the loss of his weight under her breaking her voice into madness. He smirks and clicks his tongue at hard, like a teacher scolding a student.

"Tisk, tisk, aren't we a little eager?"

He starts taking off his clothes, all while staring at her, she's uncontrollably devouring inch by inch of his skin as he uncovers himself. His chest and abdomen are marked with black ink and she's never seen anything sexier. She buries her nails into her palm to stop her whines, her begging for him to come back to her.

He sits back on the edge of the bed and beckons her closer. Her thighs cradle his groin once more as she sits on him and she leans forward and stops against his ear, making a low purr of a sound; his eyes flutter, his hand tightening on her breast. He groans as she whimpers and he strokes her with the head of his cock and her tongue licks his lips slowly.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, Ariel," he promises hungrily and loses all his patience. He flips her over and she squeals in shock and his smile is positively taunting as he bites her lips before his tongue enters her mouth. He steals her breath with his tongue and she opens her mouth, desperate for some air.

She arches against his chest, licking away the sweat that glistens on his neck and collarbone. With her tongue and teeth on his neck, he enters her to the hilt, pushing hard into her, almost painfully so, stretching her fully, and they both groan, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Gods you're so fucking tight, Ariel," he groans, his hips meeting hers over and over as his cock slid in and out of her. "Damn you're so wet, you feel so good". The rest of his words died in a grunt with one particular hard thrust, and she yelps, throwing her head back. He pulls her hair, exposing her throat to him and she feels him sucking hardly on her pale skin, marking her as his, animal-like and possessive.

Her whole body quivers, and she cries out when she feels his fingers rubbing her clit in tight little circles. The pressure of his fingers and the feel of his cock pulsing inside of her makes her shiver frantically, barely holding on to his shoulders, gasping.

"Killian," she cries out loudly, her climax taking her like a storm, the pleasure coming in waves. She's drowning in him, her very own ocean, the orgasm cresting, tumultuous, consuming her. Everything she was becomes unraveled by his touch and she crashes into a million pieces, stars breaking over the ocean floor.

Killian grabs her hip tightly, the imprint of his finger bruising her, his own hips jerking against her roughly, erratically. He comes with her name on his lips and he collapses on top of her with a strained moan. She feels his cock emptying into her, and, reflexively, she clenches around him. He grunts into her neck, and bites her in reprimand. After a moment he lifts his head. A sheen of sweat covers his face, his black hair sticking to his forehead, but his eyes are bright and mischievous. Satisfied.

He gathers her in his arms, placing her over his body and hums in appreciation of her melting over his. She grins sleepily, savoring his muscles under her, enjoying this new form of sleeping, of his body underneath her, quite so new.

The night breaks into oblivion, just like she wished.

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She wakes up to burned down candles and sore muscles. Her neck pulses where he bit her and between her thighs she feels the sticky residue of his seed. The dawn is barely breaking, but already there are no traces of him on the room. He was a ghost of wanton desires, her last night to be free.

She scrubs herself until there are no hints of mint and sea salt on her skin. The only proof she spent her nigh underneath Killian is the bruise on her neck, which she covers with a braid.

When she walks into the garden, with the sunlight Eric's hair looks brownish instead of black and she appreciates the difference. Though his eyes are also blue like Killian's, Eric's are softer, lighter, like a clear morning sky. Killian's were stormy and dark, like an angry ocean. Maybe next time she's lying under Eric as he kisses her softly, like she's made of glass, thinking of Killian's blue eyes will get her to climax.

"Morning, my love." he calls to her and she smile faintly, hoping her lips are not swollen.

"Morning birthday boy, did you enjoy your party?" she says, taking a sweet roll from the plate of pastries in front of her.

"Indeed I did. I saw many of Father's political connections and we established some business that I'm looking forward to developing."

His grin was so carefree and polite, she wants to slap it off his face. Of course he'd talk politics, even on his own birthday.

"Though I didn't see you for the rest of the night." he frowns as he sips his tea and searches her eyes.

She smile prettily and plays with the end of her braid, thinking of other man's teeth on her neck.

"I felt dizzy with all the champagne, I went to lie down and fell asleep." she whispers, the lie bittersweet on her tongue.

"Oh, are you feeling well now, my sweet? I forget your inexperience with court, I should have been there at your side to stop you." he states as he takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. She bites her tongue to stop herself from yelling at him to stop being so sweet.

"I'm fine."

He's content to finish their breakfast in silence and she sulks in misery, regretting last night. Not because it happened, she's deliciously sore and pleased, but because it was a one night thing. She will never know Killian's kisses again, feel his scruff scratch her belly bottom as he bites her navel, feel him thick inside her. She's stuck in her glass cage with a crown of duty heavy on her, burying her alive. If she could have one more kiss… But she can't. It was all a dream.

They stand to go back to the castle and Ariel freezes.

There are three men standing in front of them, swords raised, grins maniacal and evil. They're dressed in black leather pants and red-stained shirts.

"Good morning, your Majesty," they spit out, like an insult.

Eric tenses but looks confused and weak next to her obvious power.

"I'm sorry, who are you? What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice lacking supremacy.

"I believe this is the lovely fiancé everyone talks about." the leader says and Ariel shivers. His voice is treacherously rough.

"This is my Ariel, yes." Eric answers and he takes her hand and pulls her closer to him, understand the danger.

"Oh no no, that won't help you, prince Eric. If you want her, you'll have to pay the price." they state.

All happens in a blur, she's being grabbed and a bag is on her head, she's screaming and she can hear Eric pleading. The swords are clattering as the soldiers swarm the courtyard, but she's being dragged, over a man's shoulder. She kicks and screams and breathes heavily trying to remain calm but the man is fast and she stops hearing Eric's pleading shouts.

She hears seagulls and the shifting motion a galley makes. She's being taken by pirates.

Then she's being dropped on the floor of a cabin and the bag is being pulled away. She stares up and there's a man with a hat in front of her, but he's hiding his eyes underneath that damn thing. He comes up to her and she can see black scruff covering his chin, but his eyes remain a mystery. She's not terrified, but livid. How dare he treat her like this? Grab her like a piece of meat?! Who would do such thing?!

"You're a beautiful price, lass." the man teases as his hand covers her cheek and he moves her hair away from her face. "Let's hope your prince pays up. Or you'll end up rotting in the bottom of the ocean."

She reels back, fuming and throws her head back, stopping his hand from holding her more. The man gasps and his fingers map her neck until they reach her bruise. Killian's bruise. It's still tender and his finger caress it knowingly, memorizing the shape, like he could see the pattern of her lover's lips on her, see the memories tattooed on her body.

"Ariel," he whispers hoarsely and she chokes.

His voice, his beautiful, velvety, dark voice, fucking her name again.

"Killian?"

Her hand goes to his head and tosses the hat to the side. Blue and green eyes clash. He steps closer and breathes on her mouth, panting, shocked and aroused with her body inches away, lusciously surprising.

She moans in premonition. Maybe she will have one more kiss, just like she wanted to.

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A/N: My goodness, this was so hard to write, I'm never ever writing smut again. Review and let me know if it sucked and you hated it. Or did you like Killian's dirty words? I know I did. Oh and the gifset that inspired me is on my profile. Review review review.


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